Submerged
by Begonias
Summary: One moment Sam was standing alongside Dean, wielding in one hand a machete and in the other a blow torch. Next thing he knew there was a rush of colors, blurred and screwed together, and the feeling of choking, taking over him. And then there was nothing.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hey, hey, hey, guys. I've had this idea for a while now, and I finally got around to writing it. So, here goes. I'm a little new to _Supernatural_ fanfic, so please go easy on me. Thanks! Also, I guess this takes place in season two. Also, I won't be able to update this until Monday or Tuesday. Please review!

**Summary: **One moment Sam was standing alongside Dean, wielding in one hand a machete and in the other a blow torch. Next thing he knew there was a rush of colors, blurred and screwed together, and the feeling of choking, taking over him and then there was nothing. Hurt!Sam. Two-shot.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own. They own me. Cursing. Minimal violence in this chapter. Pardon typos, please. I did my best.

* * *

**Submerged - Chapter One**

**by Begonias**

* * *

"What the hell is this?" asked Dean, holding out the box Sam handed him.

"It's cake," Sam answered, shutting the Impala's door.

"Goddamn it, Sam! Is it really that hard?" Dean rubbed his face in exasperation. "I asked for pie."

"And I got you cake," replied Sam simply. "It's not my fault they were out. And next time you can get your _own_ pie. What's the difference anyway?"

"What's the—" Dean widened his eyes dramatically. Was he really asking this? Sam should know this. This is the kind of thing every person in the world should know. So Dean opened his mouth to begin explaining the most vital points of being a hunter. "Sam," he drew out slowly, as though he were speaking to a little child, "pie has _crusts. _And there isn't icing on pie. There are different kinds of pies, too."

Sam furrowed his brow. "Well, there are different kinds of cake, too!"

"Good point. But pie's superior and always will be."

"Whatever you say, dude."

Dean studied the little box for a second. The cake _did_ look pretty appetizing…with its whipped cream icing and spongey yellow filling. _Okay_, he finally thought. _You _do_ look pretty damn good. _

"Fine," Dean huffed and shoved almost all of the cake in his mouth at once. With a full mouth, he said, "You know, it's not pie but it'll have to do."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Glad I could help."

"Come on, let's just go. Can you give me some directions?"

"Okay, so we're gonna exit off this next highway and go north down Hampton and turn left after about four or five miles," Sam informed his brother.

Dean grunted in acknowledgement. _He's already grumpy today_, Sam noticed. It was obviously because of the heat. They were currently in Florida, where it's always a "fucking furnace" as Dean had put it, and clad in their FBI cheap suits, ready to work on a case where a man was said to have been swallowed up by a rather large wave current when he was residing on the beach.

Not really that weird, they noticed. But it was said that there were strange lights seen, the water turned icy, and many other supernatural-like signs showed up when Isaac Roberts died. Also—many witnesses stated that Isaac Roberts was _way _too far away from the water to even have just been swallowed up. He was also not the first victim of…whatever this is.

So it _was_ weird. Weird enough for them, anyway.

Dean fanned himself as he stepped out of the Impala. It was just too freakin' hot out there. He _hated_ hot weather. Always had, always will. "I hate this weather," he groaned.

"I know," said Sam, who was digging through the glove department, fumbling through it to find their FBI fake badges.

"From now on, we only work cases where it's cold."

"Yeah," Sam snorted. "We'll just take a huge break in summer time. Maybe go on some kind of vacation."

Dean rolled his eyes at his smart-ass little brother. He always had to take things so literally.

"I've never been to the beach before," Dean commented. "Last time we were in Florida Dad was hunting a skin-walker and we left before we got to go."

Well, unlike Dean, Sam loved the heat _and _he'd been to the beach. He went to college in California, which pretty much guaranteed a beach party or two somewhere down the line. He also once went to the beach with Jessica and her family; they owned a condo in Panama Beach. It was a beautiful place. When he closed his eyes he could still feel the white, fine sand, feel _her, _because God, she was so perfect, and wonderful. She looked so beautiful in the bright white sundress she'd been wearing that day. And he missed her still.

"I have," said Sam.

"I know, college boy," Dean said with a snide smile. "I mean, you lucky bastard! You probably went to beach parties every weekend." Dean seemed to ponder this for a second, and then smiled again. "Nah, you probably stayed in all the time, _studying, _for cryin' out loud. I have to tell you, Sam, you really missed out on the finer points of college."

Not that Dean would know. Sam's college experience was near-perfect, and his partying (or lack thereof) was merely a memory.

Sam nodded. "Guess so."

"You ready for this?"

Sam didn't answer, just adjusted his tie and hopped out of the car, throwing Dean his fake badge.

There was a crowd surrounding the beach, people swimming and enjoying themselves as if someone hadn't just died there yesterday.

Dean sashayed up to a woman wearing a white t-shirt with red shorts, her hair tied up neatly in a bun. "Excuse me, miss," he said suavely. "This is Special Agent Waters and I'm Special Agent Gilmour—" They flashed their badges in unison.

"FBI?" she asked timidly. "I'm surprised you're even here. Doesn't seem like your kind of job."

"Oh, uh...we kind of specialize in weird."

She seemed to be kind of afraid of them. "Well, it's definitely_ weird_."

"And who are you?" questioned Sam.

"I'm Marissa White. I was the lifeguard on duty when…when Isaac…"

She seemed to be getting emotional over this, and she swiped her eyes hurriedly. Sam asked, "Did you know Mr. Roberts personally?"

She wiped at her eyes again. "Not really...well…I knew him because he spent so much time at the beach, but, I never really _talked_ to him. God, I just feel horrible. I should have been able to save him. To stop the..." She trailed off.

"To stop the what?" Dean demanded, both he and Sam leaning forward, eager to hear what she had to say.

Marissa looked extremely reluctant to answer them. "Well, I guess I could have just been seeing things…maybe..."

"Ma'am, you're going to have to tell us everything you saw. Every detail is important."

"Well…you know...I was sitting on the lifeguard tower, so I had a pretty clear view of the beach, you know…and, Mr. Roberts was sitting pretty far back from the water. He was just sitting on his towel, minding his own business, you know?"

Sam couldn't help but wonder how many times she was going to say "you know" in one speech.

"I thought I saw something…come out of the water. Like, there was this big wave—a wave that was way too big to even have been…" She shook her head. "The wave was unnaturally big. Bigger than any wave I've ever seen. But for a second there…" She shook her head again, some hair falling out of her loose, blonde bun. "You guys will probably think I'm crazy."

"Try us."

"Well, for a second there…I thought I saw…I don't even know what I saw…a—a two-headed…something. But it had two heads. And I'm pretty sure I know what I saw."

Sam and Dean exchanged brief looks. _You're right, we do think you're crazy. But we're going to check it out anyway because that's what we do. _

"Okay," Sam said politely, "thank you for your time, miss."

Dean and Sam turned around. "I can't stand this weather."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, I know."

* * *

"I just don't know about this case," Sam said as he watched Dean, who stretched on his bed and turned the TV on. Sam was completely in his element—full on geek mode, and it kind of made Dean amused to see Sam so deep in his research.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Dean, we don't even know if we have a case yet. We don't know if that Marissa girl even saw anything. This whole case just bugs me…"

"Well, whatever's out there is killing people. So we have to get rid of it. What do you got?"

Sam didn't have much. And after perusing his laptop screen for what seemed like hours, he didn't get enough to know what they were hunting. "The only…sea monster I can find with more than one head is a hydra."

"A hydra? Like in Greek mythology."

"Exactly," agreed Sam. "I just don't know. There's tons of lore on it, but it was said Hercules killed it, but…"

"Hey, we've seen weirder," Dean said. "I mean, we can't really even _get _surprised at things any more. What even is it?"

"The Lernaean Hydra is an ancient, serpent-like water beast, that usually resides in salt-water areas…"

Dean flipped through the channels on the TV. "Well, that pretty much fits, doesn't it?"

"Get this, the Lernaean Hydra has many heads. And…every time you cut off one of its heads two more grow in its place."

Dean's eyes widened slightly at the news. "This is gonna be a bitch to kill."

"That's an understatement," Sam agreed.

"So how do we kill it?"

"I haven't gotten to that yet." Sam straightened in his seat, and opened a new tab. "But the thing I don't get is…if this is a Lernaean Hydra, shouldn't it be in…Lerna?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Could be from Lerna, Illinois."

Sam resisted the urge to implant his face into his palm and shot Dean an epic bitch face. "Lerna…as in the one that's in _Greece_, Dean. You know, the mythological place with the entrance to the underworld…?"

"I know, man," replied Dean. "Geez. If looks could kill…"

"Ha-ha," Sam fake-laughed bitterly, scowling.

"You know, one day your face is gonna get stuck like that. In a permanent scowl, forever engraved on your—"

"Dean!" Sam interrupted. "Come on, man, I'm trying to work this out."

Dean laughed. "Something's making Sammy testy today. It's probably the heat. Understandable, little brother."

"We're gonna have to go talk to some more of the witnesses. See what they saw."

* * *

"It was, like, this huge thing. It, like, dragged him in. It wasn't just the water."

Sam nodded at the bubbly, idiotic girl speaking; she seemed just as sure of herself as all the other witnesses and that lifeguard. They all saw the same thing.

The girl turned to walk away, but not before a wink was thrown by Dean in her direction. When she smiled at him, Sam almost rolled his eyes.

"The witnesses' stories are all consistent," Dean remarked as they headed back to the car. "Guy gets swallowed up, two-headed scaly creature. The only thing is, how do we kill it?"

Sam looked out of the window as he pondered this. "I don't know. We've already ruled out cutting off its heads…I've checked Dad's journal. He didn't have anything about this at all."

"Well, we'll find something."

Sam wasn't so sure. For the first time in forever, he was stumped. Sure, dozens of websites showed how to debilitate it, but this is not what Sam wanted. He needed this thing dead, unable to hurt any other innocent citizens.

* * *

"Sam, you may wanna look at this."

Dean threw a bundled up newspaper at Sam. He looked a sickly greenish color, Sam noticed, and so he looked at the paper eagerly.

"Another one?" Sam asked in alarm. This thing seemed to be picking up speed, all of a sudden. Usually with monsters the person was killed monthly, enough time for them to figure out what was going on and how to stop it…but every three days? The Hydra was getting hungry, it seemed. And Julie Burke, young, pretty, 25, was killed the same way as Isaac Roberts.

People were getting suspicious. No one was supposed to swim there and children were usually banned by their parents. Those waves were just too dangerous.

"I know," said Dean stoically. "We have to get this thing. We're losin' people, man. You find any way to gank it?"

"Only one, and it seems risky. It says here you have to cut off its heads and then burn the body where the heads used to be to keep them from growing back."

Dean groaned. "Damn it. I don't even know how we're gonna do that."

"We're going to have to wait to go back in three days when it comes back to get the next vic. We'll have to be ready."

That was the only thing they could do.

* * *

"We're just not ready," Sam said.

When Dean didn't say anything, Sam looked at him. "Dean."

"I heard you, Sammy," Dean muttered. _I was just trying to ignore it. _

"I don't know what we're gonna do. This…this hydra is huge. We'll be no match for it."

"Well, we got our blow torches." Dean smiled. "We'll go all Wendigo on its ass."

Sam watched as his older brother flopped onto his disgusting, cheap-motel bed. He was out like a light.

Sam raised his eyebrows and huffed out a sigh.

They were always able to fall asleep in unfamiliar areas quickly. It was like a natural thing with them. But when you sleep in a different bed almost every other week you just get used to it. You adapt.

It was going to be a long day tomorrow, so they needed rest.

But Sam didn't sleep. Perhaps this was unwise of him. He knew that, but they needed all the knowledge on the hydra as they could get. And as it seemed by Dean's now sleeping form he wasn't going to contribute to this, so it was up to Sam with this one.

The creature was just too fierce; too big.

But they could do it. They've taken down werewolves, shtrigas, you name it. So why was this case any different?

Sam smiled and eventually shut his laptop. They were the Winchesters. They could take down anything.

Or so he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I'm back with an update, as promised. I hope you'll all enjoy this chapter. _Please _review. I live off reviews. Also, I keep wishing _Sharknado _was out back in 2006 because I wanted to incorporate a reference to it somehow. But, no deal. Whatever. Thank you all for following and reviewing. I appreciate it.

**Disclaimer: **Violence. Swearing. Limpness. Whump. Pardon typos. I don't own _Supernatural_.

* * *

**Submerged - Chapter Two **

**by Begonias**

* * *

Dean looked out of the diner window, up to the sky. There were storm clouds looming over them, and Dean hoped that the possible rain would bring some relief to the heat of the day.

Because it was _hot. _And it would be a lot easier to kill a monster without them sweating their asses off. And Goddamn it, Dean didn't usually wear shorts, but he was actually _considering_ it.

"How can anyone _live_ here?" he grumbled to Sam. He bit into his cheeseburger. "Seriously. It's like a constant heat wave. I wouldn't be able to stand it."

Sam didn't seem to be paying attention. Instead, he was flipping through his father's journal for, like, the fiftieth time.

"Come on, Sam. What are you even looking for?"

Sam let out an annoyed breath through his nose. "You know what I'm looking for. I just—"

"Sam," said Dean smoothly, "we got it. It'll be fine. We got the fire, and we'll torch this sucker. I don't know what you're so worried about."

Truth is, to say Sam was worried was an understatement. He _did_ have a bad feeling about this, unlike Dean, who seemed to be perfectly content, and Sam's _bad feelings _usually showed to have been correct.

"I just feel like we're walking into this blindfolded."

"Sammy, relax. It'll be fine, man. Seriously."

Sam sighed.

* * *

"There are seriously people here? Really?" Dean snorted loudly, annoyed.

Looking around the sandy beach, there were around twenty people, some with their kids. Yet the lifeguards were gone, so it was unfathomable as to why people would be there.

"Did they not know about all the killings?" asked Sam. "I mean, it was on the news…"

"They're probably vacationers who don't know about…all this." He threw his hands up in the air. "Great. It'll just make our job a lot harder. We're going to have to get them out of here."

"Yeah, but how?"

Dean smiled, almost maliciously. "I have a plan."

Judging from that devious grin, Sam wasn't sure he wanted to find out what it was.

* * *

"This is ridiculous. I feel like we're in an episode of _Baywatch._"

Dean laughed. Currently, they were clad in what they hoped looked like lifeguard wear. Yes, the whole ensemble…which is, bright red shorts. And no shirt. "You love it, Sammy."

_God, the things we do for this job, _was the only thing on Sam's mind.

"I thought you hated wearing shorts," Sam remarked.

"Yeah, I know I said that, but…I'm kinda diggin' it."

Sam's eyes widened slightly. "O-kaaaaay."

"I don't know, I mean, I'm still kind of hoping Pamela Anderson comes out of this gig. I mean, have you seen her—"

"We should go," Sam interrupted, taking note of the temperature and its rapidly dropping degrees. "It's getting colder."

Dean looked up to the sky. It seemed closer to storming than it did before. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"All the witnesses said that it dropped about twenty degrees when both suspects were killed. Weren't you even listening to their reports?"

"I was…listening," Dean said.

"Right."

"I was, man!"

"Right."

* * *

Dean reached into the trunk and took out the inexpensive bullhorn that they purchased at a Goodwill earlier that morning.

"Why do we have to dress up as lifeguards?" Sam bitched, examining his getup with disdain. "We could be anyone, and you choose lifeguards?"

"It was the only thing I could think of," said Dean. He shrugged. "And…I…kinda like it."

Sam threw him a incredulous look. "Come on, let's just get this over with."

So they strode up to the lifeguard tower and they stood next to it, ignoring the sudden biting chill in the air. That was not normal. In a town like this, where it's scorching all the time? Yeah, that couldn't be right.

Dean took the bullhorn, and through it, he said, "Attention! We are evacuating the beach! Attention! We are evacuating the beach! It is required that you leave the beach immediately."

The very audible groans were heard, and people shot glares in Sam and Dean's direction. One punk-ass teenager even shouted, "Aw, come on, man! That isn't fair!"

To which Dean replied, "Do you think I care about what's fair or what isn't? This is about your safety, dude. There's something out there." He looked at Sam. "He'll thank us later."

After what seemed to be about twenty minutes, the beach finally cleared. The ocean seemed darker already; all of a sudden the waves were jagged and tall, nearly overflowing on the shore, its blackness hypnotizing.

The beach wasn't exactly _empty, _unbeknownst to Sam and Dean. They had some people watching, some passersby that stubbornly didn't want to leave the beach. About four or five of them. So instead, they resided on a nearby dock. One that was far away enough from the water, but close enough to be able to watch what they were doing.

Sam and Dean walked back to the trunk, putting the bullhorn back and replacing it with machetes and guns and fire (they were unsure about the guns; they were hoping that it would debilitate the creature long enough to be able to chop its heads off).

When they walked back, there was no activity going on yet, and so they watched the water for any signs of approaching danger.

Dean saw something. "Sam," he said, "show time."

There was definitely something coming closer; if you squinted you could see a big, black, and scaly head. One of its many.

They stood, ready, in their scanty outfits. _We really should be wearing more protective clothing, _Sam thought. _It has a clearer shot of tearing us to shreds. _

But then he pushed the thought away. It would be able to maul them to death regardless of what kind of clothing they wore, but Sam just would have felt better wearing a freaking _shirt_, for God's sakes.

The hydra just slowly trudged out of the water, predictably, but what walked out definitely wasn't expected.

"Holy shit," Dean breathed at the sight of it. "That's a little bigger than what we planned for."

It was a lot bigger than what they'd planned for, but it wasn't an impossible kill. And Sam wasn't going to let this thing go on, killing as it pleased. It needed to be over.

"Yeah, a little bit," Sam added, chuckling nervously out of force of habit.

The hydra growled with a force, its sound so loud Sam could feel a ringing in his ears. He felt like how you feel when you get punched, where everything is temporarily blurred, the world shakes, and your ears vibrate. The only thing he could think about in that split second was that impossible noise; nothing had a roar like that thing.

Dean was grimacing, too.

It was one hell of a fight. It just got harder and harder, and only five minutes in, they were both exhausted. Water was surrounding them, going up to their waists. Sam got sprayed with a mouthful of salt water, and he choked it back up, coughing and retching harshly.

Sam didn't even know what he was doing. It all seemed like _kill, kill, kill _was the only thing on his mind. It was like an instinct.

The thing bucked and roared as Dean sliced at some of its scales. It was huge, and in the distance, the sounds of frantic screaming were heard, but they didn't pay any attention to that. They couldn't risk diverting their sight from this deadly creature.

It was weird. One moment Sam was standing alongside Dean, wielding in one hand a machete and in the other a blow torch. Next thing he knew there was a rush of colors, blurred and screwed together, and the feeling of choking, taking over him and then there was nothing.

He hoped Dean would be okay as he collapsed, down into the murky water. There was just too much excruciating pain, dragging him into unconsciousness. He couldn't do it anymore.

* * *

Sam came to with an intake of breath so sharp it made Dean's windpipe hurt just thinking about it.

Sam coughed and coughed until he felt like his chest was on fire. _It possibly is_, Sam thought hazily.

Dean and a few other people were surrounding him, but he could barely open his eyes, the pounding in his head such a handicap that he felt like he could just lie there forever and be perfectly content.

"Oh, thank God," Dean said, relief evident, and Sam could barely register the desperation seeping through. "Sammy, thank God. Open your eyes, Sam."

Sam coughed up some water, and weakly opened his eyes. He felt a hand on the back of his neck, lifting him up.

A stab of pain shot through him. Blood. Blood everywhere. Little tiny pieces of the Hydra were left, drifting away into the depths of the ocean. "Oh, God," he mumbled, and marveled at how awful he sounded. "Wha's goin' on?"

"You're going to be okay, Sammy," Dean reassured him. So Sam was sure of that, because Dean wouldn't lie to him. No matter how bad he was feeling, he'd be okay. Even if Dean sounded like he was crying, he'd be alright.

Sam didn't seem aware of the other two people there, just watching him in shock.

Sam tried to take stock of all his injuries, but it was as though his brain was muddled, and there was just too much pain to even try to decipher them all.

But his leg hurt the most. "My leg," he exhaled. He reached out weakly for Dean. "My leg…what—what happened?"

"I think the thing bit you, Sam," Dean said. "It might be broken, but we don't know for sure yet."

"Is he going to be okay?" a female voice asked.

Of course he was going to be okay. Dean said he'd be fine, so he would be.

Sam realized then that he was shirtless. Dean was too, but his mind was too foggy to be able to ask why. It was like his mouth wasn't working right. The only thing he was able to do is breathe heavily through the pain. Breathe through it, just like his father always ordered him to do.

"Yes," grumbled his older brother impatiently. "He's fine. Call an ambulance. I can't make out all his injuries."

Dean sighed. He didn't like having to take Sam to the hospital, but it seemed to be only way. Sam's leg was just too bad for him to be able to fix himself. Sam almost drowned, too, and his head was bleeding too much.

But the son of a bitch was dead, thanks to his little brother, and Sam would be fine. Because he had to be.

* * *

Dean put the two guns he and Sam had with them in the Impala's truck, but left the machetes. If a cop came by, he could explain the knives, but the guns were a different story.

The witnesses of the hunt were freaking out, and all the girls were crying. "He's a hero," a young brunette girl sobbed to Dean. "You both are. He—he killed that thing…how did you know how to kill it?"

"Years of practice," he said proudly, yet he was really annoyed. He wished they would all leave so he had a better chance of giving Sam the once-over (or possibly the twice-over).

That girl was right. Sammy was the hero in this situation, thrusting himself in front of Dean and simultaneously chopping off heads and burning them all as they fell. It was amazing, it was like he naturally knew what he was doing. It was the most wicked thing Dean had ever seen Sam do.

And the stupidest. Did he know what he was risking, throwing himself out there? He could have died. Hell, he almost did.

"If anyone asks you, this was a shark attack. Got it?"

All the watchers nodded at the same time eagerly. They were probably scared of him, or at least just in awe.

Dean asked, as an afterthought, "You guys are all okay, right?"

They all nodded, shock seeping out of them in waves. They were stunned silent.

The ride to the hospital was quiet and scary; already they had Sam on what looked like morphine.

Dean was examined too. Turns out, he got a nice sized laceration up his arm, which needed stitches, even though Dean insisted that they work on Sam first.

They gave him some over the counter drugs to help with his arm pains, and told him to wait out in the waiting room and that a doctor will come out to talk to him in a little bit.

A cop came by, too, asking questions. But Dean was already prepared.

It was simple, Dean told him it was a shark attack. That Sammy loved to surf and a shark was following right behind him.

"But," the cop said, "there were blowtorches and knives on the scene. Can you explain that to me please?"

Dean was annoyed, and worried, and he didn't want to sit here getting interrogated all day, so he said this: "Officer, my brother was being attacked by a shark. I had just been to the hardware store that morning; I'm repairing my house, so I had a lot of supplies in my trunk. I grabbed everything I could to get the thing away from my brother."

The story was plausible enough, because there was a hardware store right off the beach, and the cop seemed pleased. "All the other witnesses said it was a shark, too. It must have been the same one that killed all those people before."

Dean tried to smile. "Well, you don't have to worry about that, Officer. Because I took care of it."

The cop nodded and turned around, his investigation obviously complete.

* * *

Sam needed surgery on his leg.

Dean didn't like the sound of that.

"He should regain full use of his leg after he gets that cast off, but it might take some time," the doctor informed him. "The shark bit into the bone and some of the muscle. It's a miracle he won't have permanent muscle damage. He has a serious concussion, though he's lucky it wasn't a severe skull fracture. He's a very lucky kid. It's like a miracle."

_Yes, yes it is,_ Dean noted despairingly, and he thanked his lucky stars that this was all over soon. That Sam would be fine.

* * *

Eventually Dean could see Sam.

_Fuck. _He always hated seeing his kid brother in a hospital bed, because he always looked so much younger than what he had any right to seem.

"Hiiiii," said Sam drowsily as Dean entered.

"They gave you the good drugs, didn't they?" he replied knowingly.

"Yeeaaaah. My mouth tastes like cotton balls."

Dean grinned a little ruefully at that. Sam was always happy when he was drugged up.

"Do you remember what happened?" Dean asked, hoping for a lucid answer.

"Not really."

It _was _pretty lucid sounding. Maybe the drugs were wearing off. After all, they were administered to him a few hours ago.

"Really?"

"I remember…" He gave a laugh. "I remember the, uh, the hydra, and—and..."

"That's it?"

"Pretty much."

Dean sighed.

"You almost drowned, man. I couldn't believe it. If you didn't have a concussion I'd slap the piss out of you. What the hell do you think you're doin', jumpin' in front of me and playin' hero?"

Sam seemed to brighten at this, and he laughed softly. He knew Dean wasn't serious.

"Whatever, man. I can't believe you don't remember this! You jumped in front of my and just—slayed that thing."

"Slew," Sam mumbled. He sounded weak.

"What?"

"The past tense of "slay" is "slew"."

Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation. Sam was lying in a hospital bed, severely injured, and all he cared about was proper grammar? Strange kid.

"What the fuck ever, man!" Dean exclaimed. "I can't believe you! You…you could have died."

"Sorry," he muttered tiredly. Though he didn't sound sorry. "There wasn't much else I could do."

"I had to give you mouth to mouth while a stranger did chest compressions. Can you believe that? I had to kiss you, man."

"Eat me, Dean."

"Whatever. You were the hero this time. Who knows how many people you saved? Though it does suck. You just got your hand cast off just for a new one."

Sam's eyes had bags under them. The poor kid looked exhausted. "Thanks for the reminder."

"Any time, Sammy."

* * *

Dean was relieved.

This hunt was too close. _Too close. _Because for a while there, Sam wasn't breathing. That was bad.

Sure, the thing was killed but this hunt was too sloppy. It wasn't a good kill, it ended pretty badly even with the thing dead.

The simple thought of losing Sam made him want to puke.

This was just too close.

* * *

Sam bitched a lot about his cast, and his concussion made him dizzy, and he continued to cough up water for the next two days.

They left the hospital the next day, though the doctor recommended they keep Sam overnight for more observations on his head injury, but Dean couldn't wait that long.

So he pretty much broke Sam out, wheeling him in a wheelchair even though Sammy insisted on using the crutches.

Sam's giant frame was scrunched awkwardly in the front (he'd refused on sitting in the backseat, even though there'd be more room for him to put his broken leg up, but Dean didn't question his little brother's logic).

Dean looked over at his brother's sleeping form, thinking, realizing that this stupid freaking hunt could have ruined everything for him.

And maybe he should have listened to Sam. Sam was the one who was apprehensive about this, and they weren't well-equipped for this fight, and it almost cost Sam his life. Sam was right. They needed to be more prepared for the next hunt.

Dean had been taught a lesson. They couldn't keep walking into these hunts so blindly.

He couldn't risk that again.

* * *

**the end. **

* * *

Thanks for reading.


End file.
